


Sick as a Dog

by vague_enthusiast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16039112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vague_enthusiast/pseuds/vague_enthusiast
Summary: Remus takes Padfoot to the vet.





	Sick as a Dog

“Euuunngghhh.”

Remus opened his eyes. He blinked a little in the sunlight pouring in from the window, admiring how gracefully the dust motes danced and wondering whether the zombie that that had entered his bedroom would go away if he stayed very still.

“Uuunghhh-hnggggh.” There was a shuffling sound, and Remus felt the bed dip behind him.

_Apparently not._

Carefully, Remus shifted, freeing his arm from under the many layers of blankets. Slowly, inch-by-inch, he reached for the wand that lay within arms-reach on his bedside table.

“Hngggghhhh.” The zombie was nearer now, so close that Remus could feel its hot breath on the back of his neck.

_Hot breath?_ Remus was no expert on zombies, but one thing that he could say with some certainty was that they were not, precisely,  _alive_ — and as such,  _could not breathe_. Ergo, the thing that was now huffing miserably on the bed behind himwas more likely… Sirius Black.

“Uh… Sirius?”

“Remmm. Owwwhh.” His houseguest made a valiant attempt at a reply.

Remus sat up on his elbows, conscious of the fact that beneath the bedclothes, he was wearing only an ancient oversized t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxers. With a jolt, he realized that the shirt had been Sirius’s, long ago. He wondered what Sirius must think of this.

Although, judging by the bright flush in Sirius’s cheeks and the feverish shine to his half-lidded eyes, Sirius was not thinking much of anything.

“Shit,” Remus muttered, dropping his wand and leaning over his frie— housemate. “Sirius?” He touched a hand to the other man’s forehead.

It nearly burned his fingertips. Alarmed, Remus took Sirius’s shoulder, shaking him lightly in an attempt to rouse him. “Sirius, what are you feeling? Sirius, you have to tell me what’s wrong, or else I can’t help you. I’m not Madame Pomfrey.” Sirius’s head lolled, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Remus jolted backward. “ _Shit, shit, shit.”_

All thoughts of modesty forgotten, Remus leapt out of bed. He nearly took a head-dive down the stairs in his haste to get to his dim little living room. Breathing hard, he dashed to the fireplace and flung a fistful of floo powder into it, muttering the address and praying that Dumbledore would be alone.

He stepped into the green flames.

“ _Albus_ ,” he gasped, shaking soot out of his hair. “Albus, you’ve got to help me, Siri—“

“Ahhh, Remus. Forgive me if I am mistaken, but I do believe you are a mite early for our afternoon tea! I was certain that we scheduled it for  _next_ Thursday.” Blue eyes twinkled over steepled fingers.

“I— what?” Remus stared back. “Our… tea?”

“Yes, our appointment for tea. I too have been looking forward to a steaming cup of lady grey, but I am afraid that I am otherwise occupied at the moment.” Dumbledore inclined his head to the person sitting across from him at his desk. In Remus’s haste to speak to Dumbledore, he had not noticed the little man who had turned in his seat to get a look at the werewolf.

Dumbledore smiled. “I do believe you have met Mr. Cornelius Fudge, our Minister of Magic?”

“Oh— uh. Yes. Minister,” Remus nodded at Fudge, who was looking him up and down with an air of wariness, tinged with carefully measured pity. Remus became conscious once more of the state of his dress— he could only hope that the Minister was a fan of 70s muggle rock bands or, at the very least, black and red tartan underpants.

“Mr. Lupin, I hope that you are faring well? Not found a new job yet, I see, but I’m sure such things are quite a challenge for those with your particular… affliction.” He chuckled genially.

“Er… yes. Very. If you don’t mind, though, Minister, I need to speak to Dumbledore in private for a moment.”

“In… private?” Fudge eyed him beadily, before puffing up his chest. “I am afraid that we are in the middle of a very important discussion. Hogwarts is undertaking a great responsibility next year. Top secret, you know.”

“Rrright.” Remus could not have cared less in that moment if he had tried. “It’s just–” he looked imploringly into Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes, willing the headmaster to read the desperation in his gaze.

Dumbledore stood, mind made. “I do apologize, Cornelius, but I am certain Mr. Lupin shall be just as quick as he can be. Do help yourself to a lemon sherbet while I am gone, they are simply delightful.” Dumbledore pushed a little crystal bowl of sweets toward the apoplectic Minister of Magic. He then guided Remus over to the window, where he cast a subtle  _muffliato_  before turning to Remus with concern in his eyes. “What is the trouble, Remus?”

“It’s Sirius— he’s… He’s ill. Really ill, Albus.”

“An illness of what variety?”

“Feverish, short of breath— I’m not sure what else. He’s not exactly lucid enough to list his symptoms at the moment.”

“Ahhh.” Dumbledore’s wiry white brows knit together. “This is not a surprising development; Sirius has likely been left compromised after his time in Azkaban, and I hear that a steady diet of rats is no miracle for a man’s constitution.”

Remus nodded, relieved that Dumbledore seemed know what he was talking about. “Can you give me something for him?”

“Unfortunately, no. I would not dare do so without looking him over first.”

“Well, then—“ Remus grabbed the man by his royal blue sleeve and started toward the fireplace.

“ _Remus_ , please slow down for a moment,” Dumbledore called. Then, quieter, “I cannot visit Sirius in person at the moment, as I expect that removing myself from the Minister’s presence with so little explanation would look exceptionally suspicious.”

Remus clenched his jaw. Frankly, he couldn’t care less how Dumbledore looked; what matter was  _Sirius_ , who could be choking on his own vomit right now. Remus’s heart dropped a beat at the thought. He opened his mouth to vocalize these thoughts, but Dumbledore silenced him with the raise of a single finger.

“I understand that the situation is dire. Seeking assistance from a healer or a doctor at this point would be impossible without raising alarm at the whereabouts of a wanted criminal, since Sirius’s face has graced the cover of wizard and muggle publications alike. But— there is a way.”

Remus furrowed his brow. “What way?” Sweat was beginning to collect on his forehead and beneath his arms. Glancing over at the Minister, he found the man fully twisted in his seat, watching their whispered conversation with growing interest.

Dumbledore continued. “If this is a muggle illness, which it does seem to be, with the symptoms you have described— well, there are muggle doctors who treat creatures… of the non-human variety.”

Remus stared. “Do you mean—“

Dumbledore smiled, eyes shining behind his half-moon spectacles. “I do believe we understand each other.”

Remus bit back a laugh, quashing the hysterical incredulity that was rising in his throat. “Oh, he his going to  _hate_ this.”

***

“Sirius,” Remus said, shaking his frie—  _houseguest_ gently. “Sirius wake up. Come on, I just need you to do one thing.”

Sirius did not move. “Siriuuuus,” Remus moaned. “Please?” But it was no use— the other man was sleeping like the dead. It was a talent of his, one that he had perfected back in their days at Hogwarts. The Marauders had discovered that the only way to wake him up in this state was to get Remus to—

“Oh bloody hell,” Remus growled. “ _Fine_ , you mutt. But don’t get any ideas.”

He kneeled down next to Sirius. Then, with a sigh, he leaned close, so that his nose was touching Sirius’s cheek and, very slowly, slipped his hand under Sirius’s shirt, pressing cool fingers to the hard planes of his stomach. “Sirius,” he murmured.

“Wha—“ Sirius’s eyes snapped open. Then, as though even such a minuscule movement hurt, he shut them again, murmuring a dull, “Hunghhh?”

Remus withdrew his hand hastily, sitting back on his heels. Flushed, he worked to keep his voice steady. “Sirius, can you hear me?”

“Mmhmmm.” Sirius’s brows came together. “You— your hand—“ The words were slurred.

Remus flushed brighter. “Yeah, my hand. Anyway, I need you to transform into Padfoot, please.” He kept his voice as matter-of-fact as he could with his heart racing at about a mile a minute. He had forgotten how gorgeous Sirius smelled in the mornings, and how smooth and warm the skin of his stomach was. The muscles were harder and more wirey, the skin tighter than it had been back then. But even now it seemed to sing;  _Remus, Remus, Remus. I am yours._

“Y’ want… Padfoot?” Sirius giggled, then winced. “Merlin, Rems, y’ve gotten kinkier since—“ He stopped, swallowing, then seemed to lose his train of thought.

“Can you please just do it?” Remus hesitated, then: “For me?”

Sirius huffed a sigh, and then a dog lay in front of Remus, motionless but for the rise and fall of its chest.

Remus smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. Before he could stop himself, he passed a hand over the dog’s flea-bitten ears.

***

“You brought him in just in time, Mr. Wolff. A fever of that grade could have been lethal, but we’ve had him on ibuprofen and a saline drip for a number of hours now and he seems to be recovering. You can take him home now, just make sure he takes it easy, and be sure to stick to soft food for a while…”

Remus could hardly hear the woman with Padfoot looking up at him, quicksilver eyes no longer dulled by fever and pain. The dog still seemed a little weak as he stood on shaky legs, offering his collar for the leash; however, the wink he gave Remus as he fastened it told Remus that Padfoot really was alright. Anxiety abating for the first time that day, Remus led Padfoot to the little brown Chevy that awaited them in the parking lot.

As soon as Remus had merged onto the highway, a small  _poof_  sounded from the back seat. Glancing in the rear view mirror, Remus found those striking eyes regarding him now from a distinctly human face. One thick dark brow lifted.

“Do you have any idea,” Sirius rasped drily, “How they take one’s temperature at a veterinarian’s office?

Remus stifled a smirk. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Immediately he felt a rush of blood to his ears; he had forgotten that the man sitting behind him was not the Sirius he had known in school, had forgotten that the years which had passed since the last time they had joked like this now stretched between them like an ocean.

Sirius snorted. “I choose to ignore that comment.”

Remus let out his breath. Silence filled the car as Remus fumbled for something to say.

He coughed. “Shall we have some music?”

Sirius was gazing out the window now, head propped against the glass. “Why not?” The dog collar was still buckled round his neck, little name tag dancing against the hollow of his neck.

Remus fiddled with a few of the buttons on the dashboard until he found a classic rock station.

_Please, you’re the only friend I got_  
_Please, you’ll be the last to see me rot  
_ _Sick as a dog, what’s your story—_

A barking laugh sounded from the back seat, startling Remus. 

“Sick—“ Sirius was wheezing, “—sick as a fucking—“

Remus felt his mouth twitch. He reached over, and turned up the volume.

_Please, don’t be late to take it light  
_ _Please, you’re gonna bay into the night_

Sirius rolled down his window and stuck his head out into the cold night air. Hair blowing backward, he belted along to the music, letting the wind steal the words from his lips.

“You’ll catch ill again,” Remus called weakly, but Sirius either did not hear him or did not care.

Remus’s lip twitched again. 

“Ah, fuck it.” He floored the gas, and tore down the highway, adding his voice to the mix.  _We may as well live_ , he thought,  _if only for a moment._ And for fifteen glorious minutes they were teenagers again, taking their first summer road trip to the coast, futures bright and wide open.

Sirius withdrew from the window only once Remus was pulling into his parking space at their flat. The dark-haired man sat back against his seat, chest heaving and cheeks glowing. Again he captured Remus’s gaze in the rear-view mirror as the latter put the car into park, switching off the radio and filling the car with deafening silence.

“Remus.” Sirius’s voice was low, his worn vocal chords turning the word into a growl. Gracefully, he closed the space between back seat and front. It was all Remus could do to turn and meet him as Sirius crashed their mouths together, pressing, biting, gasping; then abruptly, it stopped.

Sirius sat back, face white. “I’m— I’m sorry.” He began to fumble with the lock.

Remus blinked, heart still racing in his chest. “It’s—“

“No, it’s not alright.” Sirius was shaking his head wildly, hands trembling as he continued to scrabble at the door. “It isn’t. I should not have done that. You’ve just saved my life,  _again_ , after you offered me your home and your kindness at risk to yourself, and I take advantage—”

“Sirius.”

Sirius jerked as though hit with a stunning spell, hands stilling at last. He lifted his face to meet Remus’s gaze.

“Don’t be sorry.”

It seemed to take Sirius a moment to realize that Remus was smiling.

“Don’t be sorry.” And Remus reached for Sirius’s collar.

They slid again into a wordless declaration spelt across skin, lost years found with soft touches and hot mouths. It wasn’t the same, and it never would be again. But it was something, and it was  _them–_  and, Remus thought as Sirius’s mouth found his neck– it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Half of this was written like six months ago, so do forgive me if the writing style was a little choppy! This was based on a shit post of mine over on Tumblr (@vagueenthusiast) that blew up a tiny bit, but of course I had to throw in some angst :')
> 
> Hope y'all like it!


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